I'm not sure how many of you have seen Elizabeth Gilbert talking about creative genius
, but I saw it a while back and didn't comment, and one of the guys at work brought it to my attention again tonight on Twitter, so I guess I want to hash out my own thoughts on it and find out what you all think, since most of you are my first port of call when it comes to writing feedback and assistance.( I will cut this, though, because I think I've ranted at incorrigible public length enough for one evening. I DO NOT IMAGINE THAT I NEED TO TELL YOU THIS IS ALL OPINION, BUT FOR THE SAKE OF AVOIDING SNOOTY COMMENTS: IMHO. )
So that's the rant. I'd appreciate slightly saner commentary, since we all know how I get when I'm excited. I want to know what your
creativity-inducing triggers are.Triggers:
MUSIC → Must be regular of beat, remain within a certain pitch range, and connect in some way with the tone of what I am writing. This is why my playlist for The Conductor
is more successful in getting me to work than any other playlist — it's very flat and straightforward, which fits Ash's mentality very well.
SOLITUDE → If pressed, I can write with people around, but particularly for story-writing, I have to be in a corner where I can see everyone and no one can be reading over my shoulder. Music comes in here, too, since it helps isolate my brain from whatever is going on around me.
NIGHT → No matter what I try to do with my schedule, I always write my best between 10pm and 2am. I have done, and am doing, my best to alter this, but my head works better at night, probably because at night I feel like I'm just dicking about with words and there's no pressure.
PRESSURE → Conversely, pressure helps because it means that the writing (or other creative endeavour) is the most important thing around. Nothing tops it, therefore nothing has the right to encroach on your focus upon it.
COLD FEET → No, seriously. I find it difficult to write when I have warm feet. They give me an uncomfortableness.
TEA → Not that I can't write without it, but that I have made tea a ritual that lets me focus on my work: I make it, bring it back to my desk, and get in a good five or ten minutes of intense concentration before it's of a drinkable temperature. (And then, if I'm lucky, forget all about it because I'm concentrating too hard on what I'm doing to be concerned with things like tea
That's all I can think of at present. Come and chatter with me, o flist, and yea, also you lurkers of the night. I am less aggressive than the rant would have you believe, especially now that it is 11.22pm and I am kind of tired and cold and ranted out.